


Intercession

by Avirra



Category: Star Trek : Mirror-verse, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Mirror Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 05:23:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/876094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avirra/pseuds/Avirra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Mirror-verse look at events from near the end of STID (don't read if you don't want movie spoilers).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intercession

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of a challenge. This is not part of the 'Unholy Alliance' series.

Moving like a man of twice his years, Doctor Leonard McCoy, CMO of the ISS Enterprise, moved to his desk. To say this was a bad year was so much of an understatement as to be laughable.

Kirk was dead from radiation poisoning, body frozen to prevent deterioration until McCoy could steel himself to perform the autopsy. The idiot of an Augment responsible was frozen by his side in the morgue - dead by Spock's hands. Spock - now the Acting Captain of the Enterprise. Just the thought of that sent a shudder down McCoy's spine and made his need for a strong drink that much more of a demand from his over-stressed brain.

The green-blooded menace had made it plain on numerous occasions that Kirk was far too lenient with the ship's CMO. If the Empire gave Spock full command, McCoy knew that the best he could hope for was to be transferred out. Not that it really mattered. He was under his own death sentence.

Xenopolycythemia. He had killed the lab technician that had handed him the results. Idiot had no idea who the sample being tested was from, but McCoy wasn't about to take the chance of her talking to anyone about the diagnosis. No way in Hell was he going to spend what little was left of his life being dissected and experimented on. Not if he could help it. He'd airlock himself first.

When he got to his desk, he bit back a few curses. One of the sadistic bastards or bitches in the area had left a long dead tribble in the center of his desk with the hypospray sample of Khan's blood literally stuck into the thing. No - he wasn't going to yell or curse out loud. Hell, maybe he'd leave the thing in the center of his desk like it was a vase of flowers. That ought to make them re-evaluate just how well they thought they knew him. Keeping his staff off-balance and never sure what he'd do next had saved his life on more than one occasion.

Sitting down behind his desk, he wondered briefly how long the tribble had been sitting there like that? He hadn't been at his desk since the whole insane situation with Admiral Marcus had started to unfold. What an idiot. If he'd only talked to Kirk and promised him the chance to create unrestricted mayhem? Kirk would have grabbed at that faster than he would a three-breasted sex slave. And McCoy had been witness to the fact that he grabbed at those pretty damn fast. Instead? Now Admiral Marcus was dead, Kirk was dead, Khan was dead and he was dying. Yeah - that reminded him. Back to that drink calling his name.

Unlocking his drawer, McCoy reached in for his bottle, checked the seal, opened the bottle, then double-checked the contents and the glass before pouring himself a stiff drink. Sitting down, he looked at the tribble again and frowned. Idiots had gone and injected some of the blood he'd drawn from Khan into the dead tribble when they'd inserted the hypospray into it. Waste of good research material. He should booth someone for that.

Grumbling, he reached over and yanked the hypospray free, reading the settings on it. Two weeks? No way had this thing been on his desk for two full weeks. They must have had it stowed somewhere and then put it on his desk sometime after all the chaos started. He took a long sip of the potent bourbon then started to sweep the dead tribble off of his desk and into the trash. He froze unbelieving a second later. He was hallucinating - no, no - only one sip was certainly not enough to make him drunk.

Fumbling for his tricorder, McCoy spilled part of his drink on his desk before finally grabbing the tricorder up while pretending his hands weren't trembling. He wasn't imagining it. That tribble really had moved. And now the damned thing had moved to lap up the spilled bourbon and was purring loudly. McCoy's eyes roamed from the tribble to the tricorder to the hypospray as his brain went into overdrive. Less than two minutes later, he went into a flurry of activity that shocked his staff badly enough that none of them thought to contact Acting Captain Spock to tell him what was happening until it was too late. McCoy had sealed himself into a one of the labs with the tribble and the frozen bodies of Khan and Kirk.

As soon as he was informed, Spock immediately left the Bridge. The Vulcan entered the Sickbay area like a storm on the verge of breaking and headed straight for the sealed lab, hitting the intercom button with almost enough force to break it.

"Doctor McCoy - I order you to unseal this laboratory at once."

"Sorry, Captain Spock, I can't do that. Something isn't right with Khan's body. I've already been exposed, but I don't want to risk it getting out to the rest of the crew until I've had a chance to determine exactly what we're dealing with here."

From the way Spock stiffened, he was clearly not expecting that response. His first impulse had been to break down the door, but now? His dark eyes narrowed as he considered. One fact he knew as well as his name was that Doctor McCoy was a poor liar face-to-face. His eyes always gave him away to anyone with the sense to watch them.

"Come to the observation window, Doctor."

He was pleased that McCoy at least obeyed that order immediately and he took a moment to look the man over. He didn't seem to be drunk, but McCoy usually wouldn't stand up to him without Kirk being nearby.

"What is wrong with Khan's body, Doctor?"

McCoy met Spock's eyes boldly. He wasn't exactly going to lie, but he was sure going to skirt around the truth as much as he could. He couldn't allow anyone in the room until he knew for sure one way or the other if he could make his idea work. If they got in and then refused him access to the bodies? Or worse, made him begin the autopsies.

"I wish I knew. Right now, what I'm seeing so far is like nothing I've ever seen before."

"How long do you believe it will take for you to properly assess the situation?"

McCoy glanced over his shoulder briefly before facing Spock again.

"Two, maybe three weeks to be absolutely certain of any dangers. I'm going to have to grow cultures and - well, you're a scientist. We both know there's no rushing those."

Spock continued studying the eyes of the doctor as he considered. It was a fact they both dealt with on a regular basis. Despite the huge advances in science, cultures had to grow at their own time. Attempting to encourage them to quicker growth inevitably skewed test results. The doctor might be using it as a stalling method, but again - why? Spock could think of no logical reason that stalling would be to McCoy's advantage, so accepted it as fact.

"Indeed. Will you be able to maintain your own health in isolation for that duration?"

"My current state of health is already in question, but there's a food replicator in here and, while I'm not looking forward to being stuck in here for that amount of time, it seems to be the best of a very limited set of options."

Spock slowly nodded. Was he being told the truth? Yes. Probably not the whole truth, but after consideration, he decided that whatever was being kept hidden from him could remain that way for a period of time. After all, for all his faults, Doctor McCoy was not suicidal nor had he the talents or desire to run a ship himself. At the end of the time, he would simply rip the information from the doctor's head if the answers were not forthcoming willingly.

"Very well, Doctor. Given the nature of culture growing, I will give you one month's time to deliver your results. If you cannot provide them by that time, I will assume that whatever is inside the room is a danger to the ship and order the immediate decontamination of the room - with you inside it. Do we understand one another?"

There was no fear in McCoy's eyes at that blatant threat even though they both knew full well that the decontamination process would leave nothing of the doctor behind but a pile of very clean bones.

"If I don't have answers by that time, I will probably welcome it."

Spock gave a curt nod and moved over to the intercom again as McCoy closed off the observation window.

"Captain Spock to Chief Engineer Scott."

"Scott here, Captain."

"I wish for you to put Sickbay laboratory A-5 on priority for power equal to the Bridge in case of emergency for the next month."

While naturally curious, Scotty knew better than to question the Vulcan half-breed.

"Aye, sir. I'll take care of that immediately."

It was two weeks later that a pair of clear blue eyes reopened, puzzled and looking for answers. The alarm on the biobed alerted McCoy and he soon moved into Kirk's range of vision. Kirk's eyebrow quirked as he noticed McCoy was holding a tribble as he reached over to turn off the alarm. The doctor looked exhausted, but satisfied as he offered Kirk a drink which was readily accepted.

"Welcome back, Captain."

"Welcome back? Have I been some . . ."

Then the memories hit him like a ton of bricks. Engineering. His ship. Reaching the sealed door as his strength finally failed him. His breath caught in his chest and he looked up to McCoy for confirmation.

"I . . . died. Didn't I?"

"You did."

Kirk slowly lifted his right hand, making and releasing a fist several time while staring at it.

"McCoy. What did you do?"

Carrying the tribble over to his desk, McCoy sat it down next to a small pile of grain. He turned back to Kirk's biobed, running a hand through his hair. Kirk noted that McCoy had not yet met his eyes and frowned. Then Kirk repeated his question more forcefully.

"Bones! What - did - you - do?"

McCoy finally did look up at him. The expression on the doctor's face was hard to read as he finally began to speak.

"Something probably way off the charts, morality wise, even for me. I accidentally discovered a property of Khan's blood and I sealed us away to make use of it to bring you back to life."

Kirk's blue eyes were solidly fixed on McCoy. The man had literally brought him back from the dead. Now he was wondering about the price tag. His next words were spoken carefully, but without emotion.

"Not that I'm not appreciative, but why?"

McCoy looked away again, moving around the bed, making adjustments to allow Kirk to sit up somewhat and offered him another glass, this one a mineral supplement instead of pure water. Kirk didn't bother checking the drink before sipping it. After all, if McCoy had wanted him to be dead, all he would have had to have done was nothing.

"You remember our Academy days, Jim? Once we found out we wouldn't be in one another's way, I made your enemies disappear and you returned the favor with some of mine. You know me - the real me, not just the doctor. None of these other folks do except maybe Scotty, but he's like you and me. So long as no-one tries to upset his own little kingdom in Engineering, he doesn't give a crap. You two I can somewhat understand and deal with, but the hobgoblin?"

"Ah, let me guess. You think Spock would have dumped you on the next asteroid we came across."

"I don't think so, I know so. But that's actually beside the point. Thing is? I need you to do something for me."

Sitting the glass down, Kirk leaned back and watched as McCoy began to pace.

"I'm listening."

Taking a deep breath, McCoy decided to hell with it and went straight to the point.

"Fact is, Jim? I'm dying. I have maybe a year to live and half of that time, my life won't be worth living. I've got an incurable disease - xenopolycythemia. If Starfleet finds out, I'll be worse than dead because those jealous quacks back at Starfleet Medical will order me back and then use me as a guinea pig for any and every demented experiment that goes through what passes for their minds."

McCoy looked straight into Kirk's eyes then and spoke in a low tone, as if afraid of being overheard.

"I want to try the same serum on myself that I used on you, but I need someone to watch over me that won't kill me the second I'm incapacitated."

Kirk clasped his hands together, thumbs near his chin, resting his nose atop one of his knuckles as he thought quietly for what seemed an eternity to McCoy. Finally, he looked back to McCoy and spoke.

"I see the advantage to you, but I'm failing to see what's in this for me."

McCoy started chuckling as he continued to pace.

"I can see being dead hasn't changed anything. Strangely enough, I find that reassuring. Well, let me tell you what's in it for you, Jim. The facts are that I'm currently the only person - not only on this ship, but in the entire Federation - that knows what I just accomplished for you. And the only place the formula I used is? Inside of my head - it's not written down or on any computer. You watch over me and if I live? Then we know we have something really special."

Eyes bright, McCoy stopped pacing and leaned on the end of Kirk's biobed, his voice as passionate as if he were already seeing what he was trying to convey.

"Let me direct your thoughts for a moment. Imagine the loyalty that could be commanded from a crew whose Captain can not only guarantee them profits beyond what any other ship could offer, but who can also guarantee them that - so long as they keep him happy - he keeps them healthy even to the point of bringing them back from the dead. Your raiding parties would be fearless - unstoppable. And they would be as invested in keeping the secret aboard the Enterprise as you and I would be. After all, if the secret got out, they'd take me and my secret ingredients away from the ship. That happens, they wouldn't have access to it any more and neither would you."

A smirk formed on Kirk's face.

"You're right. This does remind me of our Academy days. So, as of this moment, the crew thinks I'm dead?"

"They do. And we have two more weeks before Spock comes and I either have to answer questions or he decontaminates the room with us in it."

"Then let's not waste time. Tell me what I need to do."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At precisely the end of one month, Spock once again stood outside the sealed door of the Sickbay laboratory and pressed the intercom.

"Doctor McCoy. You have exactly two minutes to allow access or I will commence the decontamination procedure."

There was no answering response, but the light above the door indicating the seal was intact went out. As Spock stepped forward, the door opened for him.

He entered to find Doctor McCoy seated at his desk. Staying silent for the moment, he studied the doctor. The man was paler than usual and had obviously lost considerable weight. Strangely, he was cradling and mindlessly stroking a tribble as he finally looked up at Spock. When he spoke, it was with a very prevalent drawl.

"Why, Commander Spock. How very punctual of you."

Spock's dark eyes were cold and stern. His hands gave the slightest of tugs to the gold shirt he was wearing to emphasize his next words.

"That is Captain Spock to you, Doctor."

Then a voice that had to be false came from the side.

"Oh, I don't think so, Spock."

Almost against his will, Spock turned slowly, not really believing his eyes. It was illogical. Impossible. But, impossible or not, Captain James T. Kirk was standing there with his familiar smirk, the one that rarely boded anything good to the person it was directed at, firmly in place.

"Miss me?"


End file.
